Geraldton Port to Export Emus to Middle East in Groundbreaking Peacekeeping Mission

Australia sends its most experienced conflict veterans – 6-foot-tall birds with no regard for diplomacy or borders

I was halfway through an ice-cold red can at the Freo when the idea hit me like a magpie in spring. If Australia can’t send tanks, troops, or actual weaponry to the Middle East, why not send something far more effective: emus.

Yes, the emus. The same flightless menace that famously handed the Australian Army its feathers in the Great Emu War of 1932. For those unfamiliar, this is not satire (that part, anyway). In the early '30s, the government launched a military operation in Western Australia to cull tens of thousands of crop-raiding emus. With Lewis guns mounted on flatbed trucks, the army managed to kill… a few hundred. Emu casualties were minimal. Morale was shattered. And the emus? Victorious.

“If we had a military division with the bullet-carrying capacity of these birds it would face any army in the world… They can face machine guns with the invulnerability of tanks.”
— Major G.P.W. Meredith, Australian Army

With over 27 million of the buggers currently clogging up the outback, it was only a matter of time before someone thought to weaponise them. That someone, it turns out, was me. And by the third can, I’d already emailed the idea to Canberra. By the fourth, the Port Authority had signed off on the logistics.

The plan was hastily approved by Canberra in what insiders are calling “the fastest Department of Agriculture sign-off in recorded history.” With Australia’s live animal export ban set to take full effect by 2028, officials were under pressure to get feathers on the water before the gates slammed shut. “Technically, they’re not livestock,” one junior aide clarified, “they’re tactical non-combatants with aggressive tendencies. It’s a legal grey area we’re exploiting with great enthusiasm.”

Critics have slammed the move as a last-minute loophole grab, but proponents argue that time is of the essence. “We’ve got three years to flood the Middle East with these majestic bastards before the bureaucrats get wise,” said one unnamed Defence staffer, seen loading emus onto a flatbed with nothing but a broom and a high-vis vest. “This is about peace through poultry.

Operation Bush Chook

The first battalion of long-legged diplomats boards next week from Geraldton Port, which has been temporarily reclassified as a live emu export hub. Leading the charge is Colonel Hathi – a 6’2” bastard of a bird known for kicking a LandCruiser door off its hinges and staring down a traffic cop on the Brand Highway.

“We don’t know which side he’ll fight for,” admitted Captain Barry “Stitch” Maloney, local wildlife wrangler turned military liaison. “But we do know he’ll fight. Anyone. Anytime.”

That, officials say, is the genius of the plan. Emus take no sides. They recognise no flags, no politics. Only movement and mild aggression. In many ways, they are the perfect peacemakers: equal-opportunity chaos merchants.

“The presence of emus in a conflict zone introduces an unpredictable wildcard,” says strategic analyst Dr. Fiona Peck. “You never know when they’ll kick, bite, or charge – which forces both sides to pause, reflect, and maybe stop acting like complete drongos.”

Each emu will be rationed one red can of Export per week, mostly as a symbolic gesture. “They don't drink it,” says Barry, “but they like looking at their reflection in the can. Calms them down a bit. Sometimes.”

The Department of Defence confirmed (under strict anonymity): “Given current recruitment levels, it's either this or sending in the 3rd Aged Care Division. The emus are faster, meaner, and significantly cheaper to deploy.”

Not everyone’s thrilled. Green groups have raised concerns about animal welfare, while immigration officials worry the birds may not return.

“Frankly, we don’t want them back,” says one WA farmer. “They’ve been doing war crimes against my wheat for years. Let ’em fight for someone else’s paddocks.”

As Colonel Hathi boarded the first ship, pausing only to kick a news photographer square in the groin, a hush fell over the dock. A new chapter in global conflict resolution had begun – and it runs like hell in a zigzag pattern.

By Horace J. Lightworthy | Point Moore Press War Correspondent (Retired, self-appointed)